


Ghosties

by lexwing



Series: Children of the Force [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Babies, Childhood, Childhood Friends, Force Ghost Anakin Skywalker, Gen, Grandparents & Grandchildren, Minor Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Parent Han Solo, Parent Luke Skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:01:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24346186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexwing/pseuds/lexwing
Summary: In which Baby Yoda unexpectedly meets Force Ghost Anakin.
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo, Luke Skywalker/Original Female Character(s), Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Series: Children of the Force [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601830
Comments: 2
Kudos: 92





	Ghosties

**Author's Note:**

> Part 3 of Children of the Force  
> Author’s note 1: Another installment in the continuing saga! These stories are not in any particular order, but if you feel at all lost you may want to read the two previous entries in this series for context.  
> Author’s note 2: As noted in a previous story, aging up BY as a character is tricky. For this story, which takes place between “Children of the Force” and “Cousins,” let us say BY is very roughly equivalent to a human child of four or five.

Force ghost Anakin played no part in his grandchildren’s lives.

He had stayed away from Luke and Leia, and away from their families, specifically because he didn’t see what he could possibly contribute to their lives except more pain. What could he have said? What could he have told them that would have made things better?

Would Anakin have been able to admit to Luke that his initial feeling on discovering he had a son had not been love? It had been rage. Anger that Luke had been taken from him. Pride that Luke was strong in the Force, absolutely. And possessiveness, too, a fierce possessiveness that had warped and twisted his--Vader’s—already warped and twisted soul. Possessiveness that had made him lash out at the boy on Cloud City and sever his hand when Luke had defied him and dared to barely graze him with Anakin’s own lightsaber. Possessiveness that had reminded Anakin uncomfortably of that last, fatal meeting with his wife on Mustafar.

Possessiveness, Padmé would have told him, was not love.

 _You’re going down a path I can’t follow_ , she had sobbed.

No. How could he even have begun to make amends, after everything that had happened? 

As he’d lay dying he had seen forgiveness in Luke’s eyes, that was true. But even as a ghost, Anakin didn’t dare test how far that forgiveness extended. 

And Leia, the daughter he’d never seen with his own eyes, the daughter he’d…

Better to just remain within the Force, where all was peace and where he wasn’t reminded of all of his mistakes, of all he’d lost and of all he’d learned at such a terrible cost.

* * *

Anakin had sensed when his grandson had been born. The boy was strong in the Force. According to Yoda and Obi-Wan, the boy was growing up to be reckless and headstrong. Anakin had not failed to notice that the ghosts of both Jedi masters had looked directly at Anakin when they had said this.

The Dark Side wanted the boy. Anakin sensed this. However, Yoda and Obi-Wan had made Anakin promise not to interfere. The boy’s future was not yet written, they said. Events needed to play out as the Force willed them, they said.

Still, Anakin had wanted to approach the boy, to reach out to him from the netherworld of the Force. He knew nothing about being a grandfather, or a father, for that matter. But he knew was it was to be young, and alone, and frightened.

However, Leia and Luke had not told Ben Solo who his grandfather had really been. Had not told him about Vader.

Anakin felt he had to honor their choice and not confuse the boy any further.

It was the least he owed his children.

* * *

Seven and a half years after Ben’s birth, when his granddaughter was born, Anakin felt somewhat differently.

“Strong in the Force, yes, but a Jedi, this child will not be,” Yoda had already pronounced, though not unkindly. “Her own path she will have to forge.”

So what was the harm in visiting her, and standing over her cradle to make sure she was safe and well cared for?

* * *

The Millennium Falcon moved silently through hyperspace. The ship was quiet, and cold, and all the cabin lights had been dimmed to emulate nighttime for the passengers.

Before appearing, Anakin carefully reached through the Force, exploring the vessel.

The pilot—Han Solo—and the Wookie were in the cockpit. They were drinking caf and silently but contentedly watching the streaking stars overhead.

Solo. 

* * *

_You do realize that your daughter basically married *you*?_ Obi-Wan’s Force ghost had told him once. _You and Leia never knew one another and, yet, still…_

Anakin had been offended. _I was never that wild. Or that insolent._

Obi-Wan’s ghost had just laughed at him

* * *

He found Luke and his wife sound asleep in their cabin. Buried under blankets, they slept as deeply as parents of a very young child could. 

Anakin sensed a tension in his son’s mind. Luke was dreaming. But, should he hear the infant in the next room cry, Anakin was sure Luke would be on his feet in a moment.

Luke’s wife had dark circles under her eyes, but she was smiling a bit as she slept. Without her armor, the Mandalorian looked like any other young wife and mother, tired but content, trying to get rest while she could.

Anakin had never gotten to see his own wife like that. 

He’d cheated himself of that.

* * *

In the cabin next to Luke’s, the Child was busy.

He’d been asleep in the bunk across from his best friend Ben. The adults had tucked them into bed a while ago, with warm covers and one last sip of water and an admonition to sleep well.

Ben was still asleep, curled on his side as he always was, his arms wrapped around his thin chest as if for protection. 

But the Child—Yaru, his father called him now—had heard the infant squeaking in her cradle, and had been instantly awake.

He climbed out of his bunk and padded to the other side of the small cabin, where an improvised baby bed sat on top of an empty bunk. Like the Falcon herself, it looked like it was made of junk, but it was sturdy. Han Solo had produced it proudly at the beginning of their journey back to Coruscant.

“Made this when Ben was a baby,” he’d told them all as he set it up. “Had to do something to stop that kid from rolling around in hyperspace!”

“I can’t believe you still have that,” Luke Skywalker, balancing his two-month-old daughter on one arm, had observed.

“In storage. Figured it might come in handy again someday,” Solo had said with a laugh.

The Child had a hard time believing his friend Ben, who was nearly three times his own height, had ever been small enough to fit in the little container. But then, he knew nothing about babies. He knew very little of the world in general, having spent most his life within the confines of his own lidded cradle. It had been quiet, and peaceful, and a good place to commune with the ever shifting moods of the living universe. The Force, Luke Skywalker called it.

Until the day the Child’s father had come and opened the cradle. 

Since then, life had been a blur of light and noise and chaos. The Child loved every minute of it.

Father had stayed behind on Mandalore this trip.

The Child already missed him. But he was happy to be with his friends. And he was happy to be there to help the baby, who had wriggled about so much she had gotten her feet free of her blanket and kicked off the tiny socks that were keeping them warm. That was why he climbed into the crib. It was more than big enough for the two of them.

* * *

The Child was delicately putting the socks back on the fat little pink feet of his newest friend when the ghost came.

The Child knew it was there before he could see it. It appeared in the room near the crib, to the right of where Ben still slept. 

Peeping over the rim of the crib, he watched as the ghost took the form of a tall man.

The ghost looked at the Child, and the Child looked at the ghost.

The Child was not afraid. He knew the ghost meant no harm.

The baby made a small mewling noise, and they both looked down at her. She waved her hands at them happily and burbled.

“Padmé,” the Child told the ghost, indicating the infant. “Padmé, baby,” he explained.

He wanted to tell the ghost more, but the man with his faint blue glow looked so solemn the Child decided it was better to stop talking. 

The Child had gone decades without words. Silence didn’t bother him.

* * *

If Anakin had still been alive, he was certain his heart would have broken.

He leaned closer so he could get a good look at the now partially swaddled infant. 

She had Padmé’s eyes. They were blue, like Luke’s, not brown, but they were still Padmé’s. The child was so young her eyes were still a bit unfocused. But Anakin suspected she was aware of his presence. She was smiling slightly, her tiny, nearly bald head turned towards him.

“Hello, Padmé,” he said softly.

Force ghosts could not directly interact with their environment. And Anakin had never held a baby in his life (well, a baby Hutt once, but that hardly counted).

Still, if he’d been able to do so, he would have picked her up.

Instead he looked at the small creature sitting next to her feet.

The green child wiggled his ears up and down, his dark eyes wide and shining. The Force shimmered and hummed around his small form. His power was wild and raw, Anakin sensed, but fundamentally good. Like nature itself.

Nearby, Ben snored softly in his sleep, his hair a tangled cloud around his head. Anakin smiled a bit. He wondered if Leia knew her boy had inherited his strong features and dark hair from Shmi Skywalker. 

Did Leia know anything at all about Shmi? Had Luke told her? Had the Lars’ told Luke about his grandmother?

Anakin hoped so.

“Your great-grandmother would have loved you both,” Anakin told both children quietly. “Your grandmother would have loved you. I’m sorry neither of them can be here. That’s my fault.”

He looked back over his shoulder at the third child.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell Ben I was here. I just wanted to make sure they were both well, and they are. I…would like to visit him again, someday…when he’s older. But now is not the time. Can you understand that?”

“Understand, I do. Friends,” the small being told him proudly. “Friends, they are.”

“That’s good. They’re going to need friends. Thank you for that.” Before he turned away he paused for a moment.

“Obi-Wan was right: you do look like Master Yoda,” he added.

The small creature smiled enigmatically at him.

“All right, keep your secrets,” Anakin said.

“Secrets, yes,” the little one observed. “Many secrets you hold, too.”

“So I do,” Anakin admitted. “So I do. Until we meet again then.” 

“Bye, ghosty.”

Anakin allowed himself a small chuckle.

His grandchildren were in good hands. 

That was enough for now.

He smiled, and allowed himself to fade from view.

The end


End file.
